Turning the Page Read online

  “Do you really think they will?” Hans asked. “I’ve lost days of work time on the phone with them, and I got nowhere. They sent me round and round and basically told me to write a check and this would all go away. I don’t have that kind of money to just write them a check over a mistake that my tax preparer made.”

  He sounded a little frantic. Malcolm understood. The IRS bureaucracy tended to do that to people.

  “I understand. Did you contact your tax preparer?”

  “He’s moved on. I had an accountant do last year’s taxes, and I’ll use him going forward.”

  “All right. Let me work up an estimate of how much of my time this is going to take so you’ll have an estimate of costs, and you can decide what you’d like to do.” Malcolm folded his hands on his desk. “I always want my clients to know exactly what they’re getting into.”

  “I appreciate that,” Hans said. “Do you want me to leave all this with you?”

  “That’s fine.” Malcolm pulled a blank file folder from his desk drawer and put everything he thought he was going to need into it. He really didn’t think this would take very long, and it all depended on how soon he could get in touch with one of his contacts at the IRS. “I’ll get the estimate out to you tomorrow, and once you approve it, we’ll get moving.” He had to turn away and take his time putting the file together to get his heart to stop beating in his ears. Hans was handsome, but those eyes…. Malcolm kept looking into those eyes, and thoughts he shouldn’t be having sprang into his head.

  Hans was a client, and Malcolm was not having… well, downright dirty thoughts about what was under Hans’s tight shirt. No, those thoughts and images had no place in the office. Hell, they had no place in his life. David was gone, and that part of his life was over. He had accepted that months ago.

  Malcolm stood and extended his hand, and Hans did the same. This time when they touched, a current passed through Malcolm’s arm and down his spine, and he had to use all his self-control to keep from shivering. Hans’s hand was warm, firm, and strong, with a hint of calluses on his fingers, probably from typing all the time. For a split second Malcolm wondered what those hands would feel like on him and then pushed it away.

  “I’ll walk you out,” he managed to say as he released Hans’s hand and opened the office door. Malcolm led Hans through the quieting office to the lobby and told him he’d be in touch.

  Hans smiled and turned away. Malcolm had every intention of turning and going right back to his office. But his willpower failed him, and he turned just in time to catch a glimpse of Hans’s backside in his designer jeans. The elevator doors opened and Hans stepped inside. Malcolm turned away before he could be seen and went back to his office.

  He got to work, burying his attention in various tasks for his clients. He made notes of calls to be made and forms he needed Jane to fill out for him. After today he had a lot to do, and he needed to get organized in order to get it done.

  “Working late, I see,” Gary said after knocking once on his door.

  “Long day without a break.” Malcolm continued making notes, afraid he’d lose his train of thought. “I really need to get this finished.” Part of the reason for working late was so that he could actually finish things up before going home. It certainly wasn’t for chitchatting and wasting time. “Is it important?”

  “I don’t know,” Gary said, drawing out his words, which always meant he had a bone to pick. “Do you have something against the standard dress code for the office?”

  “I do. You’re going overboard, and I won’t enforce it.” Malcolm sat back, now that he was done.

  “I will.”

  “Not with my staff you won’t,” Malcolm said levelly. He wasn’t going to argue about this. “Jane can wear whatever type of shoes she dang well pleases. This isn’t a sweatshop, it’s a place of business, and I want our associates and clients to feel welcome and comfortable, not like they walked back into the fifties. Jane always looks impeccable, and this dress code is ridiculous, so rework it and let everyone go back to the way things were.”

  “We need to present a proper image.”

  Malcolm stood. “You were elected senior partner to lead this firm. But you won’t do that effectively if you go around solving problems that don’t exist. I suggest you work on bringing in more clients and revenue. Look at who’s producing what and work with the lowest producers to help them. That’s what you should be doing, not worrying about dress codes and superficial things. Help to bring in high-profile clients. That’s your job.” Malcolm began gathering up his things for the evening. He liked to have his desk cleared and organized for the following day.

  “I don’t need a lecture,” Gary said more loudly than necessary.

  Malcolm walked over and closed the door. “You’ll get one if you keep up this pissant stuff. Harlan was a master at bringing in new business for all of us. That’s what you’re being paid to do. You have the contacts, so get out and work them, find out what’s shaking, and leave this office control stuff alone. This firm runs on the quality of our people, and every single person out there is the best at what they do. Don’t make problems for yourself. That’s all I’m saying.” He softened his voice. “I wouldn’t have voted for you if I didn’t think you were up to the job.”

  “I guess….”

  Malcolm smiled. “We all make mistakes. Put this behind you and get on to what’s really important.” He picked up his case and opened the office door. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Gary followed him out and went quietly through to his corner office. Malcolm hated talking to him that way, but he’d tried a different approach before and gotten nowhere. He made a mental note to talk to Gary in the morning and make sure things were back where they should be.

  He checked through the office area, noting those who were still working, meeting a few gazes, and then he turned and left.

  Malcolm rode the elevator down to his car and stopped on the way home at one of his favorite restaurants for takeout. The man at the counter put in his usual order as soon as he saw him, and it was ready in a few minutes. Malcolm took his gyro and Greek salad home and ate in front of the television, then threw away the trash and put his feet up. He ended up dozing off for a while, read a little, and at ten o’clock he turned off the television, laid out his clothes for the morning, showered, brushed his teeth, and got into bed, sleeping on his side of the bed the way he always did.

  It wasn’t until after he got into bed that his routine changed. Normally he spent time thinking of David and their life together; it made him feel less alone. But tonight a pair of blue eyes, similar to David’s and yet set in a very different face, kept running through his mind.

  Malcolm rolled over after half an hour, punching his pillow. He needed to stop these thoughts. He alternated between chastising himself for having these thoughts about a client and feeling guilty for having them at all and somehow being unfaithful to David. He knew this was only his mind playing mean tricks on him because it had been a long time since he’d been intimate with anyone and he was lonely. He knew that. David had always been the outgoing one. He’d made friends easily, and he’d filled their lives and home with parties and warmth. Malcolm tried to keep up with their friends, but it wasn’t his talent, and over the months, once the loss had worn off for most people, they had tended to drift away, and Malcolm couldn’t blame them. The few times he’d tried to get together with people, he’d ended up either talking about David or standing aside and saying nothing because he wasn’t sure what to say. In the end, he gave up on controlling his feelings and just let it go. There was no use trying to control his mind, and he eventually fell asleep remembering a beautiful pair of blue eyes.

  Chapter 2

  “HEY, BRO,” his older brother, Peter, said the following day when Malcolm answered his phone during his lunch break, putting him on speakerphone so he could multitask. “Doing anything interesting?”

  “I’m having lunch in my office with Jane.
”

  “So no, then,” Peter huffed. “Let me guess. Other than work, you’ve barely set foot outside the house in months.”

  “I have so,” Malcolm said.

  “The grocery store and gas station don’t count, and neither does going to whatever store where you get your shirts and ties. I mean really going out and having fun.”

  “I try to tell him, but he doesn’t listen to me either,” Jane said loudly, and Malcolm shot her a dirty look. She shook her head and completely ignored him.

  “I have to come to town next week on business and thought I’d fly in on Friday so we can have some fun this weekend. You need to get out, and I could use a few days of vacation.”

  “What does Susan think?”

  “She says you need to get out more too, and she’s going to her mother’s for a few days with Anabelle.” That explained a lot. Peter and his mother-in-law did not get along. They could keep from fighting and be civil for short periods of time, like at the holidays. But after a day all bets were off.

  “Then come on. I don’t know how much fun I’m going to be.”

  “Don’t worry about that. I’ll bring the fun, you stock up on some good wine. I’ll fax over a list of possibilities.”

  “Of course you will.”

  “And make dinner reservations.”

  Malcolm rolled his eyes.

  “You eat enough takeout and junk food. Doesn’t your doctor have a fit? Listen, on Saturday I’ll even cook if that will make you happy.”

  Malcolm’s stomach rumbled happily at the thought. “It’s a deal.”

  “I’ll see you Friday.”

  Peter hung up, and Malcolm did the same, glaring at a smirking Jane.

  “You called him, didn’t you?” He stared bullets at his assistant. “When?” he asked in his best witness-intimidating tone.

  “A couple of weeks ago. I was worried. You come to work and then go home. You aren’t going out, and you aren’t seeing friends. I bet you spend every evening either preparing documents or sitting at home, eating fast food in front of the television. Peter and my husband work for the same company, and I knew they were putting on this big conference, so I made a call to see if he was coming, and if he was, if he could get you out of that house for a few hours.” She glared right back at him. “It’ll do you good, and I wouldn’t have called if I didn’t care.”

  The touch of fear in Jane’s voice gave Malcolm pause. “I know you do, but….”

  Jane set her lunch aside on the table and came around behind Malcolm’s desk. “You’ve stopped living since David passed. You work hard and smarter than you ever have, but then you go home and do nothing. The last party you went to was Harlan’s farewell when he retired from the firm and stepped down as senior partner. I know you only came because of what he meant to you, and you stayed long enough to say good-bye to him and then left.”

  Malcolm was a man who’d worked in words his entire life. He wrote them, twisted and prodded them, used them against others when necessary, and yet at this moment they escaped him. He wasn’t sure how to tell Jane that going to parties always reminded him of David. David had loved to throw parties and entertain, and he was the one who lit up a room just by walking in. He’d been the life of any party, and he’d always included Malcolm in his glow.

  “I don’t know, Jane. I just want some time to grieve and try to figure things out in my own way.”

  “But you’re not.”

  “Yes, I am,” Malcolm said.

  Jane shook her head. “I’ve seen you outside work, remember? And I know you. You’re going through the motions, and you need to think about starting to live again.”

  She placed her hands on his shoulders and began squeezing slowly. It felt good, and Malcolm closed his eyes. He hadn’t realized how tense he was until some of it began to slip away.

  “I’ll get there, Jane. I promise you that. But right now I miss him so much, all the time.” He was not going to cry in the office. He had shed plenty of tears for David before he was gone and enough to float a ship afterward. But none in the office, and he wasn’t going to start now. “I’ll be fine.”

  She stood and returned to her seat and her lunch. Malcolm stared down at his sandwich, appetite gone. He wasn’t really looking at anything, and yet David stared at him in his mind. He was scolding him with that disarmingly charming expression of his that always told Malcolm he was being a butthead without saying a word.

  “Okay. I’ll try, Jane.”

  “Good. When your brother comes this weekend, let him take you out and have some fun. I don’t care if you go bowling or to the movies, or even just take your brother to dinner. But go and have fun.” She picked up her lunch and took a bite. “Oh, by the way, on a different note, we got the approved scope of services from Mr. Erickson. So you can do that magic you do so well.”

  “Great,” Malcolm said and grabbed his sandwich for a bite. “I have the file here. I need you to prepare amended 2010 and 2011 returns. It’s an easy one with one line of income that needs to be moved. Then we can calculate the Social Security tax difference, and I can get on the phone with the IRS and make them see sense.” He handed Jane the file.

  “What lit a fire under you all of a sudden?”

  “Nothing,” Malcolm said and returned to his lunch. “He’s an author, and I’ve read a few of his books. They were good, and he seemed like a nice guy who took advice from the wrong person.”

  Jane took the files and peeked through them. “We tend to get that a lot.”

  “Yeah, we do. But in this case we can fix it.”

  “Okay. It’s nice to see you excited about something.”

  “Jane,” he said with a touch of warning.

  “Well, he was certainly handsome enough. A big strapping man. He passed me as I was leaving, and he had an amazing smile.”

  She grinned at him expectantly, but Malcolm did his best to ignore it.

  “You have to have noticed.”

  “Please, Jane. Just leave it alone. He’s a client, and that isn’t the way we talk about our clients.” Malcolm began looking up the numbers he needed. “If you could get those forms completed right after lunch, we can probably get this one nailed up with a minimum of fuss.” That all depended on how much grief Jane decided she was going to give him.

  Thankfully she finished her lunch without more hounding, and he was able to eat again and then get back to work.

  THE REST of the week was much the same—Malcolm worked, he stuck to his routine, and Jane gave him grief. On Friday, since Malcolm had everything buttoned up, he left the office a few hours early. He didn’t have to pick up his brother at the airport because he was renting a car, so Malcolm went home and made sure the guest room was presentable and then did some last minute cleaning.

  Peter arrived on time and blew inside like a whirlwind. “Malcolm.” Peter was all smiles and energy, hugging him tightly before looking around. “Everything looks the same.”

  Malcolm shrugged and said nothing. Had he expected that Malcolm would have renovated or something?

  “Am I in the guest room?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then I’ll get my things and you can change, and we’ll go to dinner. I’m starved, and I know you have to be hungry. Have you lost weight?”

  There had never been any doubt that they were brothers, with their tall frames and dark hair and eyes. They had the same angular face, but Pete had high cheekbones that gave him a movie-star look. Malcolm had always thought of himself as more ordinary. David had voiced a contrary opinion more than once. Malcolm had always felt as though he was the center of David’s world, just like David had been the center of his.

  “A little,” Malcolm admitted. Not that he’d been trying, but he sometimes skipped meals. “Let me help you bring in your things.” He needed to change the subject.

  “I got it. There’s no use both of us freezing half to death.”

  Peter went back out, and Malcolm notched up the heat a little. T
hen he met Peter at the door and led him upstairs to get settled.

  “I made dinner reservations for tonight, and tomorrow I thought I’d cook,” Peter said.

  “It’s good to have you here,” Malcolm said.

  Peter turned away from his luggage and hugged Malcolm once again. “I know this has been hell. You and David were, like, joined at the hip for years. You finished each other’s sentences and completed each other and all that. But he’s gone, and you need to move on with your life.” Peter released him and stepped back. “Let go and have some fun. You’re a single guy again.” He did this weird dance that reminded Malcolm of a demented chicken.

  “I don’t want to be single, and please don’t ever… ever do that dance again. There isn’t enough brain bleach to get that image out of my head.”

  “Mal,” Peter said in that tone that grated up Malcolm’s spine. “I know you miss him, but David was the one who died, not you. It’s been over a year. I know you needed time to mourn, but it’s time you started living again. You don’t have to date if you don’t want to, but go out with friends. I know you haven’t talked to many people lately, but I’m sure they’re all waiting for you to approach them again.”

  “I’m….” He was saying the same things over and over again and getting tired of it.

  “You’re a turtle. You’ve had your head pulled into your shell for too long. It’s time to poke it back out and start to engage the world again.”

  “Nice analogy,” Malcolm quipped. “How long have you been saving that?”

  “Since Christmas, when you spent the entire day playing with Anabelle and pretty much ignoring everyone else. I had twenty people for dinner, and half of them didn’t even know you were there.”

  That was a little extreme, but maybe Peter had a point. “Okay… so….”

  “We’re going out, so get changed into something that’s more fun, less stodgy. Our reservation is for seven, but we can have a few drinks beforehand and maybe talk to some people.”